A legend from my high school passed away this week – Dr. Fred Coolick, my history teacher all throughout high school. He taught my older siblings many years before me, and he continued to teach many years after I left. He actually called himself Mr. Coolick when he taught me, so that’s how I’ll refer to him in this post.
Mr. Coolick was even-tempered, good-natured, and a fixture in our school. Each year, he taught us history as if he was telling us a story. What was ironic was that as students, we often would joke about Mr. Coolick’s monotonous baritone of a voice, but that same voice managed to keep us riveted through the minute details of world and American history. To Mr. Coolick, history wasn’t just a collection of dates, names, and facts. It was a story that came alive the second we crossed the threshold into his classroom. I took detailed notes in his classes, studied so hard for his tests, and was so proud when I got anything over an 80 (there were many times when I got less than that).
Still, the mediocre grades I earned didn’t keep me from loving his class. Mr. Coolick was a wealth of information. If he veered off-topic during class, he could talk about virtually anything with authority.
One year, when I was in high school, Mr. Coolick came back from summer vacation with a new, slimmer waist. Each day that year, during his free periods, he would walk the halls of the school, never stopping to say more than just a quick hello, touching the doorway at the end of the hall and walking the other way. For 50 minutes he would do this. When the period would end, he would go back to his classroom, ready to teach the next boisterous group of high schoolers that would walk through his door.
He would do this every day. It was amazing to me to see his dedication to one simple habit that transformed his life simply because of its regularity.
This steadfastness translated into his classroom as well. What I always found amazing was that no matter what was going on in my tumultuous teenage life, Mr. Coolick’s classroom was always a serene, calm place. I would drag my notebook out of my backpack, put whatever was bothering me out of my mind and spend the next fifty minutes feverishly taking notes as Mr. Coolick talked. Looking back, I realize what a skill he possessed keeping an even-keeled disposition day in and day out. This is a tremendous skill I have not yet mastered, and only as adult can I see how truly incredible this was. He was the definition of cool, calm, and collected.
I became a teacher in large part due to great teachers like Mr. Coolick. I am always trying to make myself better as an educator, and frequently refer to books on the subject. As part of my own self-edification, I’ve read many books by author and teacher Michael Linsin, who encourages storytelling as a key way to engage your students. “The inherent mystery in stories draws students into whatever world you create for them,” he writes. “And it keeps them there as they transform your descriptions into moving pictures in their head.”
Mr. Coolick did just that, engaging his students simply through his masterful storytelling. Rarely did he get up out of his chair during class, but he managed to keep us riveted throughout.
I often try to channel Mr. Coolick’s storytelling in my own teaching, and I will forever be grateful to him for the lessons he taught me about history, good-naturedness, and the power of simple habits to transform. His lessons reached far beyond the four walls of his classroom, across from the gym in our high school, and for that, I know that many of us are grateful.
**Click here to donate to Mr./Dr. Coolick’s family to cover medical expenses incurred by his long illness.**
Well said, Chanie. A beautiful and fitting tribute. –Vita
Thank you, Vita!